Rachel kept exploring the rooms and bathrooms and felt a kind of withdrawal she had never knew she could feel for a house. She never realized how attached she was to her old house in Pennsylvania.
Rachel heard the movers entering through the front door, her parents’ voices directing them as they came through with boxes, furniture, chairs, picture frames, TV and computer. Rachel had seen enough, and went back upstairs without anyone noticing her.
She shut her bedroom door and sat on the floor next to her box of stuff. She fumbled through her navy blue Kipling backpack to find her keychain: she knew she had a small scissor attached to it. She cut open the tape on her box, weary about how she would find its contents.
Rachel remembered she had been furious when she had to pack up her room and had just thrown things in the box without any rhyme or reason. When she opened the cardboard flaps, she wasn’t surprised at the mess that awaited her. It was as if her whole life, fit into one measly cardboard box.
On the top were some dusty pictures of her and her group of friends from Pennsylvania. She missed her friends and couldn’t imagine ever being apart from them. She was not in the popular crowd at her school, and never had been, but Rachel loved her friends anyway. Her friends were simple, no frills, no drama.
This specific picture was one of Rachel’s favorites: it had been taken at the Dutch Fair this past spring, a carnival with rides and games, and people wore colonial clothing. It was a pretty wacky place, but Rachel looked forward to it every year.
Rachel picked up another picture and began to get choked up. It was her, and her best friend Dana, hugging and smiling. The two had been inseparable for years since they met in fifth grade. They were on the same volleyball, tennis and soccer teams at school and they were hoping to try out for varsity cheerleading together in the Fall. They had loved to go shopping together at the mall in Pennsylvania. Their favorite stores were JCPenney’s, Aeropostale, Gap and American Eagle. They also loved shopping at Wal-Mart, and always managed to find cute accessories there.
A tear fell onto the picture. Rachel quickly wiped it off, but it left a stain right in the center of the photo.
Rachel put the picture down and began to cry. She hated this house, she missed her friends, she was mad at her parents, and she couldn’t fathom that tomorrow would be her first day at AHS.
Rachel’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud Britney Spears song blasting through her walls.
Ugh, I can’t stand her.
Rachel stood up and walked over to a door in her bedroom, which she thought, was her closet, she opened it and saw Sarah standing there, singing and dancing loudly to the music. Rachel’s heart dropped at the sight: they had an adjoining bathroom.
“Shame on me, to need release, un-uncontrollably… I I I wanna go o o all the way ay ay takin’ out my freak tonight.”
Rachel couldn’t believe it; did she really have a connecting bathroom? As if things couldn’t have gotten any worse.
Rachel slammed the door. Sarah was the antithesis of Rachel; Sarah was a girly-girl, popular and liked by everyone. She had a hot older boyfriend in college, and the two talked about getting married. Sarah was thin, had blond hair, blue eyes and always had perfectly polished nails. She loved pop music, dancing and singing, and wouldn’t dare play a contact sport. Sarah was pretty and poised, none of which defined Rachel.
No, Rachel was smart, had brown hair, average weight (not skinny but not heavy). She was decent looking, but had never considered herself to be beautiful. Rachel loved sports and being outside in nature. She was a good girl and always obeyed the rules. She had a handful of good friends, but was not in the popular crowd. She’d never had a boyfriend, although she had many crushes.
So to say the two didn’t understand each other would be an understatement. Rachel went over to her box of stuff and rummaged through it, in search of her diary. She had been writing in her diary every night since 7th grade, and didn’t want tonight to be any different.
Rachel found it stashed at the bottom of the box and blew the dust off. Her diary was her life. Purple velvet, with a skull on the front, it was thick and heavy with notes from friends, ticket stubs, and pictures taped inside. Rachel wore the silver key to her diary around her neck and never took it off. She was a very private girl, and would rather die than have anyone read her diary.
Rachel lifted her diary up close to her necklace, and then opened the heart-shaped lock. She had become a master at unlocking it while still keeping the key attached to her necklace.
She picked out her favorite pen from the box and leaned forward to write:
Dear Diary,
Today has been the worst day of my life. I am sitting here, in my new room, going through all my pictures of my friends, and I realize that I don’t have any friends here in Westchester. Not one. School starts tomorrow and I’m scared. I bet nobody will talk to me. I spoke to Dana and they’re all having a last night of summer party tonight while I’m sitting here in this empty, cold room. God, could things get any worse? I’ll write more tomorrow to let you know how school goes – if I make it through.
XOXO,
Rachel
Rachel put down her diary and fell back onto her soft bed. She put her head onto her feather pillow and pulled her red and white striped blanket over her head. Rachel was too tired to cry, but too anxious to fall asleep. She lay awake, running different scenarios of how her first day would go over and over in her head. Each scenario was more daunting than the next.
Around one in the morning, Rachel fell asleep.
Chapter Two
Rachel bolted out of bed to jarring Latin dance music blasting from her alarm radio. She stumbled out of bed and fell over clothes, trinkets, pictures and papers she had scattered on the floor in an effort to organize her life. When she finally reached the switch, the alarm mysteriously stopped.
Now that Rachel had been so rudely awakened, she walked over to her bathroom door and reached for the handle: locked. Rachel knocked, as she heard the shower turn on and Sarah’s voice, belting out a Demi Lovato song. She knocked louder, hoping Sarah would hear.
“What? Can’t you hear I’m in the shower?” Sarah said.
“How much longer will you be? I have to get ready too, ya know!” Rachel said loudly putting her face to the crack in the door.
Rachel waited, but Sarah did not answer.
Rachel walked over to the mess of scattered clothes that lay on her floor. None of it was organized: mismatched socks, sweaters, tank tops, shorts, jeans and her favorite Rolling Stones Tee, all lying lifeless at her feet.